I love the idea that through our brokenness we are more beautiful. The Japanese have a word for this notion: Kintsukuroi– roughly translated “to repair with gold”. It is the art of repairing  pottery with  gold and silver lacquer, and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken.

We are all a little bit broken, some more than others it seems.  Some act out in the their brokenness, hurting others so they won’t feel so broken. Some hiding their brokenness so when hidden, they don’t feel it. Some feeling their brokenness so profoundly they retreat from the world, constantly examining their own shattered state.

Families are broken too. Mine certainly is and I think  almost all of them are.  I say almost because there could be that “perfect” family out there, the one we all aspire to and yet most all fall short. I keep looking for them, sometimes getting a superficial glance when I am at church or out in the  village.  Oh, there they are at Ron’s Ice Cream with the baby and having a lovely evening.  Oh, there they are again, taking the kids to the movies.  There they are gathering on High Holy days at church in their ever so perfect clothes, hair and makeup in place.  Women in heals and men in suit coats.

It is not a far reach to say that our society, our American experiment in all of its political messiness, is a little bit broken.  We are like extended family at the dinner table with one side arguing about the correct way to butter the bread while the other side argues that it isn’t about the bread at all,  but about the butter. Then there are the elders that just hold their tongues and watch it all play out.

Our collective church is the same way, one denomination claiming to have the truth of the story, while the others seated at the table begin to roll their eyes as “Oh here he goes again with that old story” and others get up from the table because they would rather be in the kitchen doing dishes.  Then there is always that one family member who will bring up a topic just to stir the pot and bait the fellow who can not help himself from taking it; all the amusement and disgust of the others at the table. Then there are those who never get the invite to come to the table in the first place  Those are our extended family who are talked about only when there is an issue about wedding invitations and if they will actually show up if they get one.  If they show up to the funeral some are excited to see them, some not so much.

This blog is a story of brokenness.  It is a story of my own brokenness, my own life shattering and that of my relationships with family, friends and the larger community.  But it is also a story of the Kintsukuroi, the beauty of the broken object. And in this rendering of the art, it is the gold of insight, humor and grace that bind the shattered pieces together into a blessed vessel, far more beautiful because of the fracture.